


Game of Thrones Gets Kinky 2020

by kestra_troi



Series: My Kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Anal Sex, Armpit Kink, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bisexuality, Body Worship, Bottom Robb Stark, Breast Fucking, Butt Plugs, Cheating, Clothed Male Naked Male, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Cages, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Consensual Somnophilia, Cousin Incest, Crack Relationships, Deepthroating, Dom Tormund Giantsbane, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Dubious Consent, Eating Shit, Established Relationship, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Fucking, Food Sex, Formalwear, Frottage, Gags, Homophobic Language, Human Furniture, Humiliation, Incest, Incest Kink, Infidelity, Jon Snow has a Nice Butt, Jon Snow is a Gift, Jon Snow is a Stark, Large Breasts, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marking, Married Couple, Married Sex, Misogyny, Modern Era, Multi, Office Sex, Orgasm Control, POV Original Female Character, Painful Sex, Painplay, Piss Marking, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Power Imbalance, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Scat, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Sexuality Crisis, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Slurs, Slut Shaming, Somnophilia, Sub Jon Snow, Sub robb, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Tormund Giantsbane, Tormund has a sweet tooth, Unhealthy Relationships, Urination, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, Watersports, Woman on Top, dom margaery, dom roose, established tormund/jon, jon snow cooks, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: This will be where I post all my GOT fics for Kinktober 2020.Chp 1: DAY 2 HUMAN FURNITURE + WATERSPORTS Robb x Roose (Office AU Sequel) [Can be read as a standalone, but the first two pieces are in my Bits of Stuff 3 collection if you want more context]Chp 2: DAY 13 HUMILIATION + BODY WORSHIP (Robb x Tormund) [This is unconnected to Chapter 1. Warnings for use of homophobic slurs!]Chp 3: DAY 19 SHOWER SEX (Jon x Tormund x Robb) [Sequel to 'Happy Birthday Little Crow']Chp 4: DAY 20 FOOD SEX + RIMMING (Jonmund)Chp 5: DAY 22 TITFUCKING + FORMAL WEAR (Ramsay X OFC)Chp 6: DAY 26 SCAT (Robb x Roose) [Final ficlet in my Office AU]Chp 7: DAY 27 ORGASM CONTROL + SEX TOYS (Robb x Margaery) [Sequel to my fic of this pairing from 2019's Kinktober which you should probably read first for more context.]Chp 8: DAY 29 SOMNOPHILIA (Jonmund)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Robb Stark, Ramsay Bolton/Original Female Character(s), Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Roose Bolton/Robb Stark, Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow, Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow/Robb Stark, Tormund Giantsbane/Robb Stark
Series: My Kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948558
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	1. A Messy Night At The Office

Roose lifted his glass and polished off his drink with one last swig. He savored the sharp, clean taste of his spring-fed mineral water the way his peers in the office relished their brandies and whiskies. His choice of drink was healthier and far less debilitating. He sat up in his seat setting the empty glass back on his desk upside down as it would be the last drink of the day. His very full bladder protested the move, but he ignored it. As he had done for the past several hours. Since the end of the workday.

Whimpers and muffled pleas drew his attention and Roose turned in his office chair to face his wall of windows that looked out over the city. He smirked, enjoying the sloshing feel in his bladder as he spun to the right as he and the beautiful noises of the bound boy kneeling naked in front of the nearest pane. It was finally time to test his new urinal.

Standing up, Roose unbuttoned his suit jacket. Slowly, he walked across his office to his gagged and squirming boss. Robb renewed his struggle against his chains that bolted him to the floor and bound him wrist to ankle, muttering and complaining behind his muzzle. Roose flicked the young man between the eyes. 

Robb blinked, startled quiet. 

Reaching around the apparatus that served as piss bowl and muffle, Roose carded his fingers through the boy’s curls. Rewarding him for his compliance before roughly jerking Robb’s head back. “Look at you, Hole,” the older man murmured, infusing his soft tone with a false awe. “What a perfect toilet you make.” 

Red faced, Robb mewled, shaking his head no.

Ignoring the boy’s protestations, Roose released him. He held Robb’s gaze coldly as he pulled down his zipper tooth by tooth, indulging in the moment. Robb blinked, eyes drawn by the older man’s deliberate movements. He continued to shake his head pleading wordlessly behind his muzzle. Roose brought his flaccid cock out of his slacks and let the soft length dangle freely above the collection bowl attached to Robb’s gag. The poor boy went nearly cross-eyed staring at the cock a mere few inches from his face.

“You will drink my piss, Hole,” Roose instructed, all affectation gone from his voice. “Spill a single drop and you’ll have my whips on you again.” 

Robb groaned, shifting his weight on his knees remembering the blows, the welts that had lasted for days. He stilled. 

Immediately, Roose released his pent-up stream. Robb squinted his eyes shut as yellow piss splashed noisily into the bowl and ran down the tube towards his forced-open mouth. The warm flood hit his tongue, salty and strong. He flinched. Hesitating, he held the acrid piss in his mouth even as more and more began to spill in. He was quickly overwhelmed. Swallow or drown, swallow or spill, swallow or the whips. 

He chose to swallow.

“Look at me, Hole,” Roose demanded. Robb’s eyes shot upward, still gulping down the older man’s day's worth of piss. Roose leaned forward, one hand against the window pane to hold himself up, while the other gently traced the shell of the boy’s right ear. Roose lowered his voice. “This is all you are,” he said as though imparting great wisdom. “Just a pretty hole for me to use how I see fit.”

Blinking rapidly, Robb gurgled on another mouthful of piss, his head shifting side to side minutely. Whatever he was attempting to convey lost behind the muzzle and a sea of hot piss. Roose’s thin lips stretched into a cold grin. “Are you enjoying your new favorite drink, Hole?”

Robb sobbed, then sputtered, coughing wetly behind his muzzle. Tears welled up in his soft blue eyes. Roose watched his distress avidly. “You will in time. That I can promise you.” 

Hours seemed to pass for Robb while he gulped down mouthful after mouthful of strong smelling, bitter tasting piss. In actuality it was mere moments. Eventually Roose’s stream faltered, petered, then ended. 

Roose straightened up, carefully shaking out the last few drops into his slave’s bowl before tucking his cock back into slacks. He redressed, doing up the buttons of his suit jacket so that he was truly presentable again. His balls tingled, but he suppressed the urge to harden. He stared down at Robb while the boy choked and audibly gulped every drop that filtered down the tube.

Robb coughed, red faced and crying still. 

“You know, you make a much better toilet than you do businessman,” Roose remarked as he adjusted his cufflinks. He patted the boy’s tear stained cheek. “And what a pretty toilet you are.”


	2. Accepting Humiliations Cheerfully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb has some trouble accepting his bisexuality, so he pays a guy known in certain circles as 'The Artist' to explore things.

In the late afternoon, early evening light, Robb stood in the narrow entryway in front of the man’s loft. His tie loose and askew. His suit jacket undone. Straight from the office. He chewed at his bottom lip while staring at the unassuming door on the dingy third floor of a run down building smack dab in the middle of a seedy neighborhood. His fingers twitched against his thigh, his thoughts surprisingly clear yet oddly focused on his Mammoth GC8 parked out front and how dumb it was to drive such a nice car to this dump. “Just begging to get scrapped,” he mumbled to himself. 

As if on cue a car alarm began to blare somewhere up the street. Robb startled for half a second, but then realized his car wasn’t being burgled at this very moment. He jumped a second time when his phone started to ring with an Eastern tri-tone. His wife. Robb swallowed and cleared his throat as he reached into his pocket and answered his phone. “Uh, hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, awkward and unbalanced.

Suddenly, the door in front of him swung open and the bear of a man he came to see was standing there in the doorway bare chested wearing an old-fashioned pair of linen drawstring breeches that left nothing to the imagination. Robb blushed, his heart hammering like he’d been caught skulking. “Yeah, I’m still at the office,” he lied. The ginger giant arched an eyebrow at his bald faced fib, but didn’t say a word. Robb gulped, his face burning red while his guts burned with guilt. “Yeah, no, I’m a...probably be an all-nighter again. Sorry.”

Tormund leaned against his doorpost, arms crossed, his face carefully neutral. Robb ducked his head, glancing down at the ratty carpet on the floor so he wouldn’t have to look at the other man. He could feel his eyes on him though. Robb blinked and tried to tune back in to whatever his wife was saying. 

“Uh, yeah, lots of paperwork,” he agreed, nodding along. Tormund snorted softly through his nose. Robb gazed up at him and bit his lip, his eyes drifting down the man’s broad, hairy body below that ginger treasure trail to the bulge he paid good money to see. “Yeah, love you too. Bye.”

Mortified and annoyed, Robb hung up his phone. He glared at Tormund and stuffed his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. He barely had time to open his mouth before a giant paw grabbed a handful of his tie and shirt. “Dirty liar,” Tormund sneered with a jaunty smirk. He hauled Robb into his loft with ease. “Get in here cash fag. Time to pay up.”

Robb moaned as he was partially dragged past Tormund and shoved away further into the loft. He tripped a bit over his own feet as the taller man slammed his door closed and locked it up tight. While Tormund wasn’t looking, Robb took the chance to adjust his sudden boner and ogle the fine arse on display. Not a single bit hidden by the ultra thin linen. Tormund turned once he finished locking them in and Robb got another eyeful of his cock, soft and thick resting on a bed of ginger curls. “Eager little cocksucker, aren’t ya,” Tormund taunted.

Tearing his eyes away from the prize he paid for, Robb flushed pink and straightened his back. At full height, he was only a scant shorter than Tormund, but the working man had him beat in girth and actual muscle. The ones Robb worked so hard to cultivate at the gym were mostly decorative and he knew it. He shook his head. “I’m not--”

“Oi, don’t get yer panties in a twist,” Tormund admonished, rolling his eyes as he reached out and nabbed a hold of Robb again. He yanked the younger man to him and crashed his lips to Robb’s shocked mouth. He swept his tongue along Robb’s and smiled as he swallowed the younger man’s unguarded moan. 

“Such a pretty little cash fag,” Tormund cooed into the corner of Robb’s lips. Helpless, Robb groaned and blushed, his mouth stinging as Tormund nipped and tugged at his supple bottom lip, the older man’s beard scratching at his chin. Robb flinched and squeaked when a rough, calloused hand abruptly squeezed his bulge in a vise grip. Tormund chuckled against his heated cheek. “You got my money, cash fag?”

Robb nodded, panting raggedly as he hurriedly dug his wallet out of his trouser pocket. He held it up and Tormund snatched it away. Only then did he release Robb’s crotch and give him a small shove out of his way. “The pretty boy and his pretty, pretty money,” Tormund boasted in a sing-song manner while he rifled through the bills Robb had on hand. He took out every last one and plunked them down onto his kitchen counter, pinning them to the stainless steel with a heavy clay pot. Robb watched his every move, petting his aching cock, which unbeknownst to him transformed into him stroking his hard cock somewhere along the way.

Tormund noticed of course and grinned like a bully on the schoolyard. Robb blushed, catching himself now, and jerked his hand away from his bulge. “Go on, ya dirty poof,” Tormund cajoled. “This is what you paid for.”

Shaking his head, Robb coughed a little and stood up straight. Tormund met his proud gaze with something akin to approval mixed with amusement. “Oh that’s right.” Tormund lewdly grabbed his own crotch and stuck out his tongue. “ _ This _ is what you’re paying for.” 

The ginger roared with laughter at his own joke and stomped over to Robb, draping his arm heavily onto the younger man’s shoulder. Robb gasped, his overheated face almost buried in Tormund’s pit which reeked. Robb stumbled, red faced and hard as a rock, while Tormund walked him over towards the sitting area of the loft. The bigger man patted him on the chest. “Yer a good kid,” he declared, still enjoying his moment. “Yer a cheatin’ liar and a thirsty, needy fag, but you do make me laugh.”

“Thank you, sir,” Robb muttered, shame pumping through his chest. Tormund laughed again at his show of respect and all but threw his guest onto his low, droopy couch. Robb landed on one of the saggy cushions, his erection all the more obvious now that he was seated. Tormund plopped down beside him, laying his arm across Robb’s shoulders.

“Say it again,” Tormund insisted, smiling as bright as ever, comfortable in his element. He gave Robb’s side a squeeze and lowered his voice. “Say it again, cash fag. And keep on saying it ‘til I tell ya stop.”

“Thank you, sir,” Robb gushed. “Thank you.”

Nodding, Tormund clapped Robb on the shoulder and then raised his arm up behind his head, exposing his hairy armpit. “Prove it cash fag,” Tormund ordered, cupping Robb’s neck. He yanked him forward, leaving Robb to crash face first in his smelly pit. 

Robb groaned. “Thank you, sir,” he blurted, one hand clutching at Tormund’s firm chest and the other the back of the couch while he flicked his tongue into the tangle of damp hairs in Tormund’s pit. The stink was palpable and went straight to Robb’s head leaving him dizzy and throbbing hard as he licked the ginger clean.

“Spent the morning chopping wood out back,” Tormund explained breezily. “Knew you’d be comin’ round again soon. Pretty boy fags like you can never get enough.”

“Thank you, sir,” Robb panted, turning a dozen shades of red as he tilted his head this way and that to dig his tongue into every crevice of Tormund’s pit. Tormund huffed a laugh and playful swatted at Robb’s erection still trapped in his trousers. Robb mewled, but kept at his task. “Thank you, sir!”

Tormund batted at his cock again and again like a cat toying with a mouse, relishing in every whimper and moan he got out of the boy. “Dirty fag,” he jeered from time to time. “You pretty boys are always the filthiest little pigs. Hungry little piglet.”

Shaking with need, Robb gasped, “Thank you--Thank you, sir.”

With his pit now wet with spit, Tormund lowered his arm to Robb’s dazed chagrin. The older man patted Robb’s flushed cheek, thumbing the puffy lips, before curling his fist and flexing his bicep taut. “Kiss the peak, cash fag,” he demanded. 

“Thank you, sir,” Robb effused, immediately dipping his head down to press his lips to the top of the hard muscle. He moaned, feeling the unrelenting muscle beneath his soft lips. His tongue swirled the mound, over one side then the other as he continued to kiss and taste the flexed bicep as ordered. “Thank you, sir! Thank you!”

Eventually, Tormund relaxed his bicep. A moment later he wrapped his hand around Robb’s head and smashed his face into his chest. “Keep it up, cash fag,” Tormund exclaimed while he puffed out his pecs. Robb groaned, dragging his lips and tongue over the swelled muscles of Tormund’s chest, his trapped cock digging into the other man’s leg as he moved.

“Want it bad, don’t ya, cash fag,” Tormund hissed, straining to keep his chest popped. 

“Yes,” Robb sighed, suckling Tormund’s dark pink nipple, coaxing the tip into a tight peak with his tongue. “Thank you, sir. Gods, thank you!”

Tickled, Tormund laughed, his chest relaxing as Robb switched to his other pectoral and lavished it with the same attention. Tormund cupped his own junk, giving his soft cock the space to harden in his breeches as he caught his breath and flexed his chest again. “On your knees, faggot,” he instructed through clenched teeth. 

Sinking onto the carpeted floor, Robb knelt between Tormund’s spread legs still passionately adoring his hairy right pec. Once he settled, he took Tormund’s nipple gently between his teeth and pulled. Tormund chortled, going lax again. He pushed Robb down by the head like he was an overeager puppy. “Time to show me what a good cocksucker you are, piglet.”

“Thank you, sir,” Robb whispered, concern leaking into his voice. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and caught the head of Tormund’s semi-hard cock between his lips, sucking at the tip through the linen. Tormund snorted and pulled at the drawstrings of his breeches, undoing them in a hurry. 

The instant they fell apart, Tormund lifted his hips and shoved his breeches down to his thick thighs. Robb helped him get them down to his knees and then onto the floor, jerking them off Tormund’s big, smelly feet while he reverently nosed the ginger’s floppy shaft and heavy balls. Tormund sighed and giggled all in one as Robb mouthed at his cock without having to be told. He willed his cock to harden. “Yeah, cash fag,” he crooned. “Finally gettin’ what you paid for, eh?”

“Thank you, sir,” Robb murmured, his breath warm against Tormund’s skin. Robb sniffed the man’s ungroomed pubes and moaned, then chased the surging head with his plush mouth as Tormund hardened. He scooped the tip into his warm mouth and sucked lightly, coaxing the older man along to full hardness.

Tormund sagged into his seat, slouching low forcing Robb to scoot backwards to keep his cock in his mouth. “Want it bad,” Tormund drawled, both amused and awed by Robb’s keen attention. “What do you say, cash fag?”

Taking his mouth off Tormund’s erection for the briefest moment, Robb said, “Thank you, sir,” and promptly began to suck the man off. Tormund tittered and clasped his hands on either side of Robb’s head, gently pushing him further down then back up at a quicker clip. Robb took the hint and maintained the dictated speed. 

“Ooh, yeah, there ya go, faggot,” Tormund broadly praised, his hands pawing at his chest. He shuddered as he played with his own nipples. “Finally doin’ something useful with that pretty mouth.”

Robb moaned around the cock in his mouth, one hand blindly seeking his own painfully hard cock while the other softly fondled Tormund’s low-hanging stones. “My big cock worth paying for, cash fag?” Robb gurgled around his mouthful, nodding and meeting Tormund’s warm gaze as best he could while servicing him. “You pretty boys always make the best cocksuckers.”

Shadows crossed the room, the sun setting while Robb was on his knees. Tormund never gave it up fast on the first go. He made Robb work for his orgasm. “Hands on me, faggot,” Tormund spat, flexing both of his biceps this time. Robb whined, but let go of his own cock in order to grope the rigid muscle peaks above him. “That’s right, cash fag. Worship your new god proper.”

And he did. 

In the end, Tormund grabbed the sides of Robb’s head and plunged his cock as deep as it could go, gagging the boy as he fucked Robb’s throat. Tears streamed down the sides of Robb’s red face, snot dripping from his nose, and drool gushing down his chin as he let himself be used. Tormund bucked into his face, his nose smashed into a mess of spit damp ginger bush when Tormund finally came, shooting his load down Robb’s throat. 

Robb didn’t mean to come right then, but he did. His hand flying to his crotch as he spurted into his briefs. He felt the wet spot seep into his slacks and groaned, choking on Tormund’s cock while he kneaded his own weeping erection.

He spent the night. 

He meant to.

He fell asleep with Tormund’s cock buried in his ass.

And come morning, he woke Tormund up with his mouth. Getting to taste the man’s load. His cravings fulfilled at last.


	3. A Shower For The Birthday Boy And His Two Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short, smutty epilogue for 'Happy Birthday Little Crow'.

The water had long run cold. 

Jon still had his backside in the spray. His brother’s warm hands slid up the small of his back then down to cup his firm arse in frequent circles. The contrast made him shiver and moan into Robb’s mouth. He cupped the back of his brother’s formerly sweaty head and directed their kiss, deepening their already long embrace. They couldn’t seem to stop now that the Wall had been breached. 

The door to the bathroom creaked open and Tormund strode in, still naked from their tryst. The moment he saw the two boys macking on one another, he quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “Nothing prettier in the world,” he asserted with a leery whistle, leaning against the vanity counter.

A blush rising to his cheeks, Jon broke away. “Tor--” 

“Don’t stop on my account,” Tormund hastily interjected. He crossed his arms and smirked, settling into his place. “I was enjoying the show.”

Robb cleared his throat, a flush creeping over his face as well. “Uh, I don’t know, maybe I should--”

“No,” Jon insisted. He shook his head. Robb’s eyebrows rose surprised at his brother’s resolve. 

“We really shouldn’t--” Before Robb could say another word, Jon surged forward and caught his lips once more. Robb sighed, the fight evaporating instantly as he kissed his brother back allowing his hands to again paw at Jon’s remarkable backside. They had already come this far, too far. There didn’t seem to be a reason to stop now. Jon held Robb close, demanding affection with every sweep of his tongue. 

Their audience of one chuckled through his nose, amused and aroused. Gradually his cock hardened again without needing to be touched as he watched the brother-cousin’s passionate liplock. All pretense of showering was long gone. “My hungry little crow,” Tormund murmured. 

Jon eyed his husband from his periphery unwilling and unable to break the kiss with his brother again. His cock stirred, quickly filling out and poking his brother in the hip. Robb groaned, nipping at his brother’s pouty lips, his own cock responding in kind. Jon moaned and returned the toothy treatment to Robb’s own supple bottom lip, his hand slowly falling between their wet bodies. “Oi, there ya go, my love,” Tormund whispered, encouragingly. And as Jon’s hand made contact with their two cocks, bringing them together in his grip, Tormund finally took his own erection in hand. 

Both the Stark men moaned, panting against each other’s mouths as a fresh heat tinged their cheeks. “My crow likes a finger or two up the arse,” Tormund announced conspiratorially to their third. Robb turned his head and gazed at Tormund through lust glazed eyes. 

With a smile on his face Tormund raised his hand and wiggled his fingers, his eyes darting to his husband’s ample bum. “Drives him mad.”

“ _ Tor _ ,” Jon gasped, embarrassment coloring his tone. Robb nodded and met his brother’s eyes again. Moving at a slower pace, Robb leaned down and licked at his brother’s puffy lips. Jon moaned and hurriedly suckled his brother’s extended tongue. 

The two Stark cocks throbbed in Jon’s hand. 

Robb skimmed his hands across his brother’s arse and gently pulled his cold cheeks aparts. Jon gasped as two fingers tentatively twittered against his wet rim, his pucker still swollen from taking his husband’s cock. “That’s it, boy,” Tormund directed, now avidly stroking his erection. “He can take it.”

Jon groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as the two timid fingers suddenly thrusted forward, spearing him deep. Robb whined, his cock twitching, as lukewarm come dribbled out onto his fingers. Jon crashed their lips together, furiously stroking their joined cocks while his cheeks burned red. They had already broken the laws of gods and men earlier tonight, so what was one transgression more?

“There room for a third in there, love?” The two Starks broke their kiss, a string of spit that connected their overworked lips snapping as they looked over at Tormund almost in perfect sync. Tormund stood upright, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest, paradoxically making himself appear as big as possible.

The Starks caught their breaths. “Always,” Jon softly replied, his head tipping to the side to rest against his brother’s temple. Robb ogled the ginger, his expression stuck between desire and mild concern, but he nodded his assent. 

With their permission, Tormund marched over to the shower in two big steps and stepped over the lip of the tub placing himself directly behind Robb. Jon carefully shifted back a tiny bit, bringing Robb along with him. They barely moved more than a few centimeters when Tormund grabbed Robb by the hips and slotted his cock right between the shorter man’s thighs. Robb gasped. Tormund jerked his head back as a signal and Jon shuffled forward again, pressing in close to the other two men. 

“Don’t mind me,” Tormund told his husband over Robb’s shoulder. “You two keep on as you were.”

Not needing to be told twice, Jon took Robb by the neck and restarted their faster, sloppier kissing. Robb went along with him, pushing his fingers into his brother’s hole repeatedly. Jon whimpered, sticking his ass out for more while thrusting forward where he and Robb were joined. 

Their cocks slipped atop one another as Jon worked their shafts. Tormund watched the two, gently rocking forward so that his cock brushed along Robb’s taint. Robb choked on a moan, his head whipping around to face the taller man, but Jon stopped him refusing to interrupt their embrace a second more. 

Impressed, Tormund chuckled and dragged his beard along the back of Robb’s neck. The shorter man shivered, noisily wheezing into his brother’s mouth. Tormund kissed Robb’s shoulder, licking at the juncture where it met his neck. Robb tilted his head to give Tormund more access and Jon adjusted as well, dropping his hand away from the other side of Robb’s neck.

Tormund nipped at the pale, unblemished skin, tasting the remnants of Robb’s sweat as well as the clean water taste from their shower. Robb whined. Jon used his now free hand to pinch his brother’s pink, peaked nipple and Robb shuddered, completely overwhelmed. “Jon,” he wheezed. “Tormund...”

“Keep going, love,” Tormund instructed, opening his eyes. Jon nodded, his eyes closing as he continued to tweak his brother’s nipple and stroke their cocks. He pulled at the sensitive nub, biting at his brother’s parted lips, as Tormund continued to leave lovebites up and down Robb’s throat and shoulder. With no other recourse, Robb began to piston three fingers into his brother’s abused hole, startling an agonized whine from Jon that only spurred them all on.

“Gods,” Jon exclaimed as his orgasm abruptly hit and he splattered his brother’s carefully groomed pubes and abdomen with his seed. His cheeks went scarlet as he panted and tensed through his climax. He always had a hair trigger after a bout of taking his husband’s cock. A fact Tormund loved and adored for all the obvious reasons. He barely had time to finish when he heard his husband speaking to him in that low, dominant tone. 

“Go on, love, I’ve got it from here,” Tormund offered, laughing at the dazed expression on his husband’s face. The birthday boy didn’t put up any resistance. Two orgasms less than two hours apart would drain any man. Properly tired now, Jon nodded and gave his brother one last quick peck before stepping out from under the icy spray. He wasn’t really even clean, but he went straight to bed.

The ginger and the last Stark standing watched that supple arse go. 

“You’re all mine now, boy,” Tormund whispered in Robb’s ear. The shorter man whined, adorably confused. The ginger chuckled and reached around to Robb’s front. He gripped the man’s shaft and gave him a short stroke smearing it with Jon’s come. Then he wrenched his hand away and coated his own cock with his husband’s spent seed. 

“I’m going to turn you out, just like I did your brother,” Tormund lewdly promised. “Make you into a right cockslut too.”

Gulping, Robb opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say died in his throat as Tormund speared him with his cock, sliding the giant erection back into his sensitive and overwrought hole. He mewled as he was mounted, spasming in a whirlwind of sensation. “Don’t worry, boy,” Tormund said in his ear. “I got you. Just hold on to me.”

Robb didn’t know what to make of that until big, warm hands cupped the backs of his thighs and his feet were lifted off the porcelain base of the tub. He hastily wrapped an arm around the back of Tormund’s neck and clawed at the tiled wall beside them. Tormund just roared goodnaturedly and bent his knees, slamming his cock into his husband’s brother-cousin with abandon. Robb gurgled and moaned, completely supported by the taller man behind him. Cautiously, he lowered his hand from the wall and grabbed his sticky, throbbingly hard erection. 

Eventually, Robb came with a strangled groan. His come splashing against the white tiles of the shower. Tormund came not long after, grunting as he seeded his new boy for the second time tonight. 

Turned out Robb was something of a present for the both of them! Tormund strutted out of the bathroom triumphantly with a lax, worn-out boy in his arms. He laid his new Stark boytoy next to his husband and stared as the two fell asleep clutching each other. Both of them tuckered out and both of them leaking his seed into their bed. 

Delighted, Tormund gave a soft snort and walked back to the bathroom for a shower with an extra swagger in his step. 


	4. Snacc Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormund comes home fore lunch and instead gets himself a snacc ;);)

Before the hour struck one, the front door of their apartment opened and in stalked his husband. Jon finished pouring out the glass of lemonade and gently set the glass pitcher down since it was a wedding present that Tormund had made for him by hand. “Hey, love,” he greeted, turning around. “How was work?”

“Hot,” Tormund succinctly described. He dropped his hardhat and his toolbelt on top of their shoe bench and wiped his sweaty, grease-stained forehead with the back of his hand. Jon smiled, the whole scene was so domestic it made his chest feel lighter than air. 

Tormund stormed over to his husband and gave the shorter man a quick peck on the lips as his own form of greeting. Then he snagged the cup of lemonade and knocked it back. He polished off the whole glass in three mighty gulps not even caring that some of it dribbled out of his mouth, wetting his beard. Jon watched on, fondly shaking his head and setting down on the edge of their dining room table that Tormund had also made as part of their wedding presents. Finished at last, Tormund sighed, smacking his lips and held his glass out to his husband. 

Jon grabbed the glass, but before he could turn around to refill it, his husband surprised him with another, deeper kiss. Jon sighed, tasting the sweetness and tartness still on Tormund’s tongue. Tormund crowded closer, wrapping his arm around his husband so that his broad, calloused hand sat on the small of Jon’s back. Jon melted into his touch as he always did and moaned when he felt his husband’s hard cock through the man’s denim work jeans. 

“Someone’s feeling randy,” Jon chuckled, against his husband’s mouth, his chin damp and slightly sticky with wasted lemonade. 

“Didn’t get my morning snuggles,” Tormund stated, matter of factly. He rested his forehead against Jon’s and nuzzled the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, love,” Jon murmured, his tone genuine enough to make Tormund feel bad for bringing it up. Tormund planted a tender kiss to his husband’s forehead as an apology. “Up late,” Jon explained. “Didn’t wanna wake you getting into bed.”

Tormund snorted softly under his breath. “My sweet, little crow,” he muttered, faintly shaking his head. He brought his lips back to Jon’s supple pair and took his time asking wordlessly for entry. Jon of course let him in without a struggle or a moment’s consideration. 

“You can wake me anytime, love” Tormund softly asserted. “My boy’s worth it.”

“Noted,” Jon replied, once he could form words again. He broke their kiss and took a couple steps back, knocking his ass into the table and the glass pitcher. Luckily, the table was sturdy and practically rooted in the ground so all he did was cause some lemonade to splash against the sides of the pitcher. Jon gasped as he whirled around to catch anything that might fall, but everything was fine and he instead took the opportunity to pour his husband another glass. 

“I thought I’d make you lunch,” Jon related, though his husband didn’t need any explanation. Jon was about to turn around when he felt his husband swagger in close, holding him still by the hips and popping his crotch forward. Jon blushed, carefully putting the glass of lemonade down on the table so he wouldn’t drop it. 

“I can think of something better we could do,” Tormund retorted, his voice low and husky. 

Jon gulped, biting his lip. “You’ve only got an hour lunch,” he pointed out. 

“Plenty of time,” Tormund assured him. He slowly rolled his hips, brushing his trapped cock against his husband’s ample backside. 

Not one to give in quite so easily, Jon refused to bend over and push his ass out. He stood up straight and announced with a breathy sigh, “Food’ll be done in ‘bout fifteen.” He held up his kitchen timer to prove his point. Tormund didn’t let up, though. Why would he? Jon shivered, his husband’s slow grind making his cock twitch in his form fitting slacks. “Tor?”

“It won’t go to waste, I promise ya, little crow,” Tormund declared. He shuffled closer, leaning over his husband so he could whisper in his ear. “Right now, I think I’d rather eat something else, my little love.”

Jon whined, his husband’s breath hot and wet on his ear, his husband’s taller, broader body sun warmed plastered to his back. And if he was being honest, he missed their usual morning frot as well. Jon put his hands flat against the table and met his husband’s leisurely humps, backing his arse into his husband’s crotch. Tormund chuckled, delighted and wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Jon’s middle so he could get at his husband’s belt. 

In a matter of seconds, Tormund had Jon’s belt and his top button undone as well as his zipper unzipped. Then holding Jon slightly bent over, he used his other hand to jerk his husband’s slacks down just over the swell of his thick arse. Jon moaned, his cock throbbing at the small show of strength. 

Tormund left his slacks right under his cheeks and dropped to his knees. He used his grimy fingers to pry apart his husband’s toned cheeks and ran his nose around the tight rosebud. Jon groaned, his husband’s bushy beard already tickling his cheeks. He pushed his arse back and Tormund huffed a laugh against his exposed hole. “Oi,” he quipped. “Now who’s being randy?”

Rolling his eyes, Jon grunted in annoyance and then whimpered as his husband shoved his face between his cheeks without any preamble. Jon’s knees tremble slightly, his cock rocketing to hardness while his husband’s thick tongue lapped and teased his sensitive rim. Jon reached back and grabbed a handful of ginger hair, pushing his husband deeper into his cleft. Tormund smiled and laughed against his pucker and Jon shook instinctively raising his right leg up onto the table so Tormund could go even further. 

He knocked the cup of lemonade over in his haste and blushed at his own tawdry display, but he bent his knee and arched his back better able to ride his husband’s wandering tongue in this position. And he did. He moaned, head tossed back as Tormund flicked his tongue past his ring, his beard tickling and scratching as his plump cheeks. He jolted when his kitchen timer shrilly buzzed beside him, knocked out of the daze Tormund always managed to put him into. 

“Food,” Jon sputtered. “Oven. Hot.”

Just as Jon began to lower his leg to the floor so he could get the food out of the oven, Tormund stopped him, pushing his knee right back to where it had been. “You stay right there, little crow,” Tormund demanded, giving his husband’s bare arse a possessive caress. “I’ll take care of it.”

Nodding, Jon settled and whipped his head around to glance over his shoulder as Tormund stomped over to their kitchen. He couldn’t see much out of the corner of his eye and the angle he was at besides Tormund opening the oven as well as a couple cabinet doors and the refrigerator. He quirked an eyebrow. “Tor?”

“No peeking, love,” Tormund exclaimed in a sing-song manner. Jon huffed, rolling his eyes and turned to face front. He relaxed his posture a bit while he heard Tormund fuss around the kitchen for some secret purpose, steadfastly minding his own business as he had been instructed to do. 

“You won’t have time to eat,” he remarked, both forlorn at the idea of interrupting their quickie but also of sending his husband back on the job without a decent meal to tide him over until dinner. Tormund’s construction job required a lot of muscle and coordination and stamina. Skipping meals simply wasn’t an option. 

Again he began to lower his leg, resigned to sexual frustration, but Tormund suddenly arrived behind him and tsked-tsked until Jon was back into his proper position. “Sure I will,” Tormund boasted. In quick succession he slammed down two bottles and a small bowl of cherries onto the table next to his husband. Jon stared at the assortment looking a little lost. 

“I’ll simply start with dessert,” Tormund confided, laughing loudly at his own insinuation. He gave Jon a smack on the arse and his husband chirped momentarily startled, his beautiful face turning a deep scarlet as he realized what Tormund planned to do. 

“Tor,” Jon pleaded.

“I can eat the rest on site,” Tormund countered. He grabbed the first bottle, a spray can of cream and shook it roughly while petting his husband’s flank. “But right now, I think my beautiful boy owes me a little treat.”

Tormund went to his knees again and Jon tensed in anticipation. “How long have you been wanting to…?”

“Since the day we met,” Tormund supplied, popping the lid off the spray canister. “I saw this sweet arse bounce in my face and I knew one day I’d have it served up right. Just for me.”

“Just for you,” Jon confirmed. He reached back and spread his own cheeks apart for his husband. He didn’t share his husband’s sweet tooth or his sexually liberated ways, but after only four years of marriage he had learned not to get in the way of such things. Especially since they usually ended with him climaxing so hard he dies a little. 

Jon gasped as the first spurt of cream erupted from the can and splattered on top of his hands and his arse cheeks, then he moaned as the tip of the can was pressed into his rim and more cream escaped. He shivered, the cream cooler than he was. Jon whimpered, his fingers fidgeting in place as Tormund filled his hole with whipped cream straight from the can. 

Next came the bottle of chocolate, imported from the East. Jon shuddered as the thicker, colder liquid was drizzled all over his arse and down the cleft like a perverted, chocolatey waterfall. His slacks and briefs were definitely ruined. “Tor,” he whined.

“A man’s gotta eat, love,” Tormund argued, the smile on his face obvious in his voice. He added more chocolate down the crack making sure it overflowed into his husband’s expensive ensemble. Jon sulked, pouting, but made no further mention of it. Tormund only did such things to get his goat and somehow or other it always ended with the two of them angry fucking, so the point was moot. 

Once Tormund was pleased with the quantity of chocolate, he nabbed the small bowl of stemless cherries, a mere handful, and dotted them around on top of the mounds of cream. “There.” Tormund placed the bowl back on the table out of reach of his husband’s raised leg and scooted the bottles out of his own way. “The perfect sundae.”

From behind, Jon heard the click of photos being taken. “Tor!”

“For posterity,” Tormund teased. “Now hold still, love. I’m fucking hungry.”

Tormund ate the cherries first, biting and nipping at his husband’s cheeks with every mouthful, sucking lovebites into Jon’s pale, smooth skin. Jon quailed, shuddering at the sweep of his husband’s tongue and the sting of teeth, his knees locked. Tormund made a meal out of it all, sliding his tongue in wide figure eights to get every last morsel of sweets. 

Jon panted and moaned when his husband dug deeper, chasing the hidden well of cream he had left inside him. At that point, Tormund reached between his legs and rapidly stroked his husband’s cock while dining on his creamed and chocolatey hole. Jon came into his slacks adding his mess to the one Tormund had made, his toes curling in his loafers. “Tor!”

“Right behind ya, love,” Tormund growled. He rose onto his feet and hastily stroked his own cock painting his hot load over his husband’s arse alongside the sticky remnants of the cream and chocolate. He grunted as he came and finished off tapping the head of his cock against Jon’s pliant rim. 

“Tor...” Jon moaned. 

“I’ll feed you later, love,” Tormund promised, shooting the last couple spurts in the cleft of his husband’s arse. “You and that hungry hole of yours.”

Bright red, Jon let go of his arse and dropped his legs to the floor, resting his heaving chest on the cool table top. Tormund smacked his softening cock on his husband’s right arse cheek and tucked himself back into his jeans. In a flash, he was grabbing a huge chunk of the casserole Jon had made as well as a loaf of bread and heading out the door. “Sorry ‘bout the mess!”

“Liar,” Jon grumbled, cautiously standing upright. His back ached a bit and his every move made cream and chocolate and come trickle down his thighs and the backs of his legs. He glared at the mess they had made, then laughed. His husband was an animal and a barbarian. What else could he expect?


	5. A String Of Pearls For Milady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay drags his pole-dancer turned reluctant girlfriend to an office party celebrating his father. Jealousy ensues...

Linked arm in arm, they left the ballroom like a loving couple taking a stroll. The moment they were out of sight of the other guests however, Ramsay grabbed Breyna roughly by the upper arm and basically dragged her down one hallway and part way down another. 

Form fitting, floor length gowns impede the stride. They definitely don’t make for the best athletic wear, which made keeping up with her fleet footed date much harder than it needed to be. Seemingly at random, Ramsay threw open one of the office doors and hauled Breyna in behind him. He kicked the door closed and gave his date a shove. 

Tripping over her heels, Breyna crashed into the edge of a bookcase spared from banging her head only by her quick thinking. She clutched the side of the bookcase and clenched her jaw, her arm sore and no doubt red from his unnecessarily tight grip. Ramsay surged up to her, forcing her back up against the bookcase. He twined his fingers through hers and raised their hands above her head, leaving her off balance with the one arm free, clasping the wooden bookcase for stability.

There were no lights on in the office itself. Light from the hallway peeked in under the door, but the majority of the light came from the wall of windows on the opposite side of the office. The nighttime cityscape view lit up the expansive room almost as brightly as a half moon. It took a moment for Breyna’s eyes to adjust to the dimness after the brightly lit ballroom. She blinked and suddenly Ramsay was on her.

She had seen that feral look in his eye in the hallway. The one that warned of sex or violence or both. With Ramsay it was always a crap shoot, the luck of the draw. Ramsay smashed his lips to hers, sweeping his tongue over her lips until she let him in. Breyna shut her eyes, going along with his affections. He grinned against her chin and squeezed her hand in what must have been supposed to be a reassuring or satisfied gesture. Mostly, it hurt. Like always.

Ramsay clawed at her thigh under her skin tight dress, groaning at the lack of skin under his fingers. Breyna chased his mouth, biting at his bottom lip the way he liked. If he couldn’t dig his claws into her it was his own fault buying her a dress like this. He chuckled, pressing his hips forward to show her how hard she made him. Breyna groaned. She let go of the bookcase and instead grabbed Ramsay by his great ass, tugging him closer. “Slut,” he sneered in an amused tone.

“Ramsay?”

“They want you,” Ramsay grumbled, nuzzling the line of her jaw and throat. Breyna turned her head to his touch like she knew she should and bumped her face against his. He kissed her neck, licking the few beads of sweat that had gathered at the base where her neck met her shoulder. He snorted and shook his head. “They all want you. Dressed like that. In your skanky gown with your giant tits all out. What a slut.”

“Your slut,” she reminded him. Aside from buying her dress and heels, he was also paying her for the night. As far as Breyna could tell she had been making a good go of it, pretending to be his loving girlfriend and not just the stripper he paid to be his arm candy and plaything. 

Ramsay slammed his hips into her, rocking the bookcase with the power of his thrusts. “Better be, you fucking whore,” he growled. He licked and sniffed and kissed his way down her chest, latching on to the side of her breast and sucking a mark into her skin. 

“Ramsay?!” Breyna shivered, feeling his teeth against her skin, his tongue, the suction. They still had hours to go at this corporate shindig. How was she supposed to hide a lovebite on her breast in her low cut gown? Breyna growled back, rocking forward to meet his hips. She wasn’t one to go down easily. If he wanted a quick tumble in the dark at the office party, then fine. She’d give him one. She squeezed his ass through his tuxedo trousers and spread her legs wider for him. 

Kissing the skin he just bruised, Ramsay snickered and stepped away. “They couldn’t take their eyes off your tits,” Ramsay lewdly described. “All of them, including dear old dad. That’s all you are to them: a pair of pretty tits and a wet hole to dump a load into.”

Breyna rolled her eyes. As if he wasn’t using her for those exact reasons? Hypocritical. “So how are they any different than you?”

A sharp, disquieting grin broke out over his round face. His hand that had remained by her thigh now shot up to her throat. Breyna gasped as he briefly pinched off her breath. He rammed back into her again, rattling the shelves behind her, his face a few scant centimeters from hers. He bumped his nose against hers and whispered, “Because I actually get to use you.”

With that, Ramsay yanked her away from the bookcase. Breyna did her best to relax her tense muscles. One or two bruises was enough for a night. He hauled her across the office, not releasing her for a single moment and then threw her down onto a couch. Breyna squeaked in surprise, having expected to be thrown on the floor or on top of an unyielding desk. Something about the layout of the room sparked an uncomfortable thought. She recognized this office. He brought her to his father’s office for a quickie. The freak!

“Ramsay,” she grunted, somewhat winded but mostly repulsed. 

“Shut up, whore,” Ramsay hissed. 

In a flash, he shoved her down flat and straddled her waist. His taut thighs were like iron, nearly as much as her own. Impressive for a man that didn’t work the pole like she used to do. Breyna made a wordless complaint in the back of her throat, but didn’t fight him very strongly. He would only get rougher, crueler anyway and he had the upper body strength. Not to mention the sartorial advantage. She wouldn’t get far in her gold lame cocktail dress and nauseatingly named kitten heels. 

With quick, furious movements Ramsay ripped down the slim shoulder straps of her gown. Breyna whined at the sound of ripping fabric. She couldn’t sell this damn thing off if it was damaged. And how exactly was she supposed to go back out there to the ballroom looking like she lost a catfight with a jealous wife? 

Ramsay laughed at her distress, jerking the top of her dress down as far as he could to reveal her strapless bra that stood out darkly against her pale skin and the golden sheen of her dress. It only took a few seconds for him to tear open the hooks with his experienced fingers. He wrenched the thing out from under her and tossed her only strapless bra into the darkness. 

Breyna heard it crumple to the floor somewhere behind her. “ _ Ramsay _ ,” she whispered, irritation coloring her voice. 

Heaving a grunt, Ramsay scooted forward on his knees and gripped her throat again. “I told you to shut up, whore,” he gloated, leaning forward to rest his weight on her delicate neck. Breyna whimpered, wriggling under his bulk for half a moment before she could regain control of herself. If Ramsay wanted her quiet, then so be it. 

Going still, Breyna settled into the couch cushions. Luckily for her, the material had enough give that she could actually breathe. Cradled by the couch Breyna laid under Ramsay peaceably watching as he unzipped his slacks one-handed and fished his rock hard cock out between the flaps. She looked him in the face and could feel the untethered wildness in his eyes even though she couldn’t quite see his eyes in the dark. 

He hadn’t planned this. He was acting out once again on instinct. Marking his territory. “Dirty whore,” he spat, smacking the head of his cock against her breasts. Breyna held back on rolling her eyes again. It wasn’t her fault the nasty, old men in the office ogled her tits and praised her beauty. Men are men. And she hadn’t been the one to pick out her gown.

Breyna opened her mouth to speak, but then something hot and wet began to splash over her bare chest. She hastily snapped her mouth shut and turned her head as Ramsay pissed on her tits exactly like a dog marking his territory. The acrid smell rapidly filled her nose. 

The warm stream pooled in the valley between her breasts and spilled over, gushing down around her neck and shoulders and into her hair and the couch beneath them. He soaked her thoroughly with his piss, watering her tits like he was watering a lawn. Weren’t men supposed to be flaccid when they pissed? 

Eventually, his stream petered out and he shook off the last few drops, rubbing the tip of his cock around her nipple. “He wants you,” he muttered, anger coloring his soft tone in something darker. “Wants to buy you pretty things. Give you jewels and dresses and a house he can fuck you in. But you’re mine.”

“All yours,” Breyna agreed.

Suddenly, he sat up and rearranged their position so that her arms were now caught snuggly at her sides by his muscular legs. Throat free, Breyna turned back to face him surprised at the abrupt change. Then he grabbed her tits and groped them, squeezing them in his palms. Kneading them like a teenaged boy with his first ever pair of breasts sitting before him to play with. He pinched her piss slick nipples into tight peaks. Breyna gasped, her back arching into his painful touch. She couldn’t move much with him having pinned her. 

He tugged her breasts together, rolling his hips in such a way to drag the head of his cock over them and between them. She nearly went cross eyed gazing at her own chest to see his cock poke through. She bit her lip, heat turning her cheeks pink. Bad enough pissing on her, further ruining her gown, but he wasn’t finished marking her as his property. 

Breyna turned away again, her face red as her cunt throbbed with need the longer he toyed with her breasts and nipples. “ _ Ramsay _ ,” she hissed after one particularly hard twist in order to stifle a moan.

Above her, Ramsay wasn’t fooled. He chuckled at her and dug his nails into her damp skin. Breyna gasped at the sting, getting a strong whiff of piss coming off her breasts while Ramsay slid his erection between them and started fucking. She sighed, sagging into the couch as he railed her tits at a ferocious pace. 

This wasn’t lust, not really. This was merely pure possessiveness. He had a point to make to all those stuffy executive men out there in their million dollar tuxedos and multimillion dollar mansions that had stared at her ass and her tits and had said nice things. 

He didn’t last long. After all it wasn’t about pleasure even for him. With harsher thrusts and a few grunts he erupted all over her, covering the bottom of her neck with thick sprays of come. Breyna flinched, shutting her eyes as his warm jizz splattered, raining down on her skin in thick bursts. 

On and on, he came, bashing into her tits until he had unloaded every drop onto her. “A pearl necklace for milady,” Ramsay panted, making an offer like a server at a restaurant with a wine to taste. 

“What I’ve always wanted,” Breyna cooed for him, but she couldn’t quite hide the sarcasm in her voice. 

Ramsay snorted. “Slut,” he huffed, giving her tits an unnecessary thrust. He straightened up the instant he was done and slapped her breasts for good measure. “You stink like piss.”

Breyna bit back the sharp reply that threatened to escape her mouth. She glared at her patron coolly while he sat on top of her and busied himself fussing over his damp cock with the handkerchief she had tucked into his jacket pocket before they arrived. He didn’t off it to her, of course. 

After he tidied himself, he tucked his flaccid cock away and zipped up before sliding onto his own two feet. “Fix yourself up, you dumb whore,” he scorned, no hint of playfulness dulling his cruel words. He meant what he said this time. 

Inhaling through her nose to calm her temper, Breyna sat up on the dank cushion under her. She was starting to discern his mannerisms and tics now that she was spending so much of her time with him. She was starting to pick up on when he teased her and when he absolutely wasn’t. As if she needed more proof of his disdain. 

“You can’t go back out there with your giant, ugly tits hanging out,” he pointed out, unhelpfully. 

“I can’t go back out there with your piss and come all over my tits,” Breyna quipped, refusing to mutter under her breath. 

To her surprise, Ramsay snickered at her harsh rebuttal and shrugged. “Whatever,” he said breezily. “Let it dry and then come out. We aren’t leaving until the party’s over. And you’re not leaving this room without the necklace I gave you.”

“Fine.” Breyna dug her teeth into her bottom lip until it hurt. Anger was a powerful thing and she hated being used as a humiliating display. Working the pole for money had been her own choice, back when she was allowed to make her own choices. Back before Ramsay. He wanted to humiliate her. Wanted the people out there, the men, to know that she was a slut. A slut he owned and they didn’t. Especially his dear, old dad.

“Very good, milady.” Ramsay facetiously bowed to her like she really was the mistress of the house and he merely her servant. He left her there, pointedly leaving the office door slightly open so that light splayed into the room and she could see his handiwork in all its sticky, smelly glory. 


	6. A Messy Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb experiences shit like he never imagined. This is the final piece of my Robb x Roose Office AU.

The smell alone made Robb gag. His cheeks burned as warm turds splattered wetly onto his face. He fought down the urge to open his mouth and groan in disgust. His dick, however, surged to full mast at dizzying speeds, his every inhale now tainted with the fetid smell of shit. Shame settled in his gut. 

Slacks undone, Roose eased out of his squat and carefully stepped away from the mess he had made and the boy he had made it on. “Not very pretty now are you, Hole,” he murmured softly, staring down at the handsome young man lying naked on the tiled floor while he did up his trousers. “All covered in shit. Nothing but a dirty shithole.”

Robb moaned, his mouth tightly and carefully held shut. Some of the turds began to slide down the sides of his face. Robb clenched his hands into fists so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch his aching erection. His ass still stung from Wednesday night when he hadn’t properly maintained control. 

“Open your mouth, Hole,” Roose commanded, tightening his belt once more. “It’s time for my dirty piggy to eat his slop.”

With a tightlipped whine, Robb shook his head no. Now that the moment was here, now that he was literally wearing a man’s shit on his face, he faltered. 

“Naughty, naughty.” Unimpressed, Roose arched an eyebrow and smirked while adjusting his cufflinks. With the toe of his leather loafer, he gradually pushed the younger man’s erection down until the head was angled lower than the rest of his body. Robb pleaded wordlessly, squirming in pain. 

Roose released his cock, prodding it with his loafer a couple times. Then the older man knelt down soundlessly beside his whimpering slave and petted the boy’s heaving, overly developed abdomen. He shook his head. The vanity of youth. Slowly, he traced his finger up the boy’s chest and around Robb’s nipple, worrying the nub into a tight peak. Robb shuddered, careful not to move too much under his master’s hand. “I will not repeat myself,” Roose murmured quietly.

The warning was clear, but Robb groaned, unable to take the final step on his own. Roose studied the boy for a brief moment, keeping his fingers light on the young man’s well-developed chest. Robb foolishly settled. 

Abruptly, Roose pinched Robb’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger and harshly twisted. Robb gasped, mouth flying open in order to yell, but whatever noise was about to escape him was muffled by the sudden influx of shit Roose shoved into his mouth. Robb thrashed on the ground as the taste hit his tongue panting futilely through his nose. He fought back the bile that nearly erupted and opened his mouth. 

“Chew it, Hole,” Roose warned, letting go of the young man’s abused nipple long enough to slap the reddened peak. Robb whined aloud, but did as he was told, timidly chewing the mushy turd between his teeth. Tears welled up in the corners of Robb’s eyes, some few spilling over down the sides of his face, mixing with Roose’s disgusting excrement. “Tastes good, doesn’t it, shit-eater?”

Robb feebly shook his head no, still chewing. 

Roose snorted, derisively. “Oh, but you love it, don’t you shiteater?”

Gurgling with his mouthful of shit, Robb attempted to say no.

“Look at your cock, you filthy pig, and think again,” Roose sneered, forcefully gripping the tip and applying pressure. Robb moaned, his hips lifting off the ground as he swallowed his first meal of shit and nearly vomited again. 

Looking down at the young conflicted man, Roose grinned, using his shit stained hand to coat the boy’s erection in his filth. Robb Stark’s subservience was complete. He owned this boy inside and out. Now and forever.


	7. Coming For A Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Married couple Robb and Margery have some kinky fun while the office is on a lunch break.

_ Bzzt _ , his office phone chirped. “Your wife is here, Mr. Stark,” his assistant announced. Robb blinked and stole a glance at the clock on his laptop. As usual his wife was early. Robb quickly reached over and pressed the intercom button on his end. Almost that very second his wife opened his door with panache and posed in the doorway with that naughty, subtly smug look on her face. Robb flushed pink and cleared his throat, fidgeting in his leather chair as the line connected. “Uh, thanks Mara, you can go ahead and uh take lunch. A long one.”

“Very well, Mr. Stark,” Mara replied. The line disconnected with a click. 

Margery blinked slowly and fully entered his office pushing the door shut behind her and turning the deadbolt. Robb stood up and straightened his tie, warily eyeing the expensive oversized purse hanging from his wife’s arm. He started to walk around his desk to her, but Margery held up her hand to stop him. He froze and she came to him instead. She sauntered right up to him and smoothed her hand down his tie before raising her eyes to his and smiling. She leaned forward and gave her husband a kiss, just a quick hello, her tongue sweeping between his loosely held lips. Then she nudged him away from her, pushing against his stomach. “You seem nervous, baby,” she remarked in her sex voice.

“A bit,” Robb admitted. “I’ve never done anything like this, so...publicly.”

“That’s where the fun lies,” she assured him, using her seductive smirk against him. Robb nodded. Margery traced the lower curve on his bottom lip, slowly dragging the tip of her finger along his skin. Robb shivered, his cock twitching against his cage. This was more touch than he’d gotten out of his wife in days. “Your assistant is out to lunch, the door is locked. It’s just you and me.”

Margery leaned in like she meant to kiss her husband again. Robb groaned expectantly, lips parted and ready. Just before their lips met, Margery placed a finger over his and brushed her button nose along the contours of his own. Robb whined, breathlessly. She smiled. “Are you ready to be a good boy for me, baby?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” 

“Good,” she said, pushing Robb back with her finger against his lips. She gazed down at his crotch then back up at him. “Take your slacks off and show me.”

Robb blushed. He fumbled for a moment with his belt, but he undid the buckle and got his trousers unbuttoned and unzipped eventually. He gave his slacks a shove and they pooled around his Dornish loafers leaving him buck naked from the waist down. Aside from the steel ringed cage surrounding his cock. He’d stopped wearing any small clothes at the same time that his darling wife had convinced him to try chastity a month ago. 

“All the way,” Margery directed, eyes falling to her husband’s feet. Robb bent over and pulled his feet out of his slacks one at a time. He then folded his trousers in half and tossed them onto his desk. “Good boy.”

Margery slipped up to him fast grasping at his flaccid, imprisoned cock. She gave the cage a couple tugs. Robb whimpered at the sting. “Your cute little cock is so pretty, baby,” she murmured, raking her nails down the steel ribs of his cage. Robb turned beet red. 

“T-thank you, ma’am,” he managed to sputter. His dick throbbed, filling up and painfully pushing against the bars of his cage. He sharply inhaled and groaned weakly. Margery tittered and tapped her husband’s recently hairless balls. Robb gasped and instinctively hunched inwards to protect his family jewels. 

“Go sit in your fancy chair, baby boy,” Margery commanded, waving her hand in the direction of one of his wide drinking chairs where he and Theon often took their downtime whiskies. 

Still protecting his testicles, Robb shuffled over to the chair his wife chose for him and sat down. Margery watched him go and dropped her large purse on top of his trousers. “Spread your legs for me,” she instructed. Robb did as his wife requested. She nodded in approval and then turned to sort through her bag. From inside she removed a long, plain box he recognized from home. 

Robb cleared his throat and pointed at the thing. “Aren’t we—?”

“Yes,” Margery said without waiting for him to finish his question. “I promised you will get to come today. But I never said I was letting your pretty little cock out of its cage.”

“But how—?”

Margery silenced her husband with an imperiously arched eyebrow. She opened her specially designed toy box and plucked out the top of the line vibrator she always kept within it. “We’re going to try one of my toys,” she answered. “We’re going to see if you can come with your cage on and your cock all soft and small and pretty. Okay?”

“Marg...”

“Or,” Margery offered with a cool shrug. “You can stay in chastity another two weeks and come then.”

Robb’s foot tapped nervously on the hardwood floor of his office. He licked his lips as he weighed his options. Two weeks wasn’t that long. He’d already done two weeks as it was, but all morning he’d been thinking of his impending orgasm. How good it would feel, how hot it would be to do something so inappropriate in his office with people nearby. He nodded. “Let’s try, please, ma’am.”

Margery smiled brightly at her husband and placed her empty box on the small drinking table in front of her anxious husband. “I’m going to sit on your lap and use my toy on your pretty little cock,” she explained. “You are not allowed to touch yourself in any way. Your hands stay on me the whole time or I stop. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good boy,” she muttered, stepping between her husband’s splayed legs. She twirled around on her heels and sat herself down on his lap facing outward so she could see and access his caged cock easily. Robb rested his hands on his wife’s hips. “You just focus on coming for me, alright baby boy? That’s all you have to do.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Robb acknowledged. He settled back into his seat and widened his stance. Margery began to pet his cock through the cage again. As Robb tried to harden under her, she flicked on her vibrator and pressed the shaking head to the tip of his cage. Robb moaned, distressed but aroused at the same time. His cock pushed at the bars of his cage, unable to harden properly and it hurt. He mewled. 

“Want me to stop?”

“No,” he hastily replied, his hands clenching around her thin waist. “No, ma’am, please.”

Pain or no, he was coming today. 

Margery smiled to herself skimming her noisy toy down the length of his cramped erection. Robb breathed easier as she danced up and down his stunted shaft. She cupped his cock and balls in one hand, mashing them together so she could drag her vibrator over all three nubs. Robb whined, his head falling back against his chair, his fingers twittering along her waist. She did it again. Robb bucked under her. 

“Easy, baby boy.” Robb grunted lowly and loudly, his face flushed and breath ragged. “Shh, baby,” Margery shushed gleefully over her shoulder. “Don’t want anyone to hear the big boss being naughty now do we?”

Shaking his head, Robb bit his lip, his hands alternating between clenching and unclenching as Margery played with his hobbled cock. Ten minutes of torturous teasing and Robb finally started to feel the rising surge in his balls. “I’m—I think I’m gonna come,” he panted. 

“Not yet, baby,” Margery declared, her Sothron lilt bleeding through. “I want to play with your cute boy cock just a little while longer.”

Robb squeaked, face scrunched in concentration. Margery changed up what she had been doing, now she was cruelly targeting the tip of his cock again where he was most sensitive. 

“Please?!” Robb lowered his voice. Of their own accord his hands slid up to grope his wife’s tits. “Pleasepleaseplease, let me come, ma’am. Please?”

“Not yet,” Margery rebuffed in a singsong tone. “How does it feel, baby?”

“Hurts,” Robb confessed. “Hurts so good.”

“Good boy,” she proudly cooed. Proven right once again. She raised her vibrator off her husband and he whined pawing at her to get her to continue on with her teasing. Margery laughed, leaning over to grab one of Robb’s empty drinking glasses. She switched her toy back on and aimed it at the head of his cock, holding the glass right under his slit. Robb moaned in pained relief. “Alright, baby boy. Come for me.”

Taking deep breaths, Robb rolled his hips to get the vibrations exactly where he wanted, where he  _ needed  _ them to be. He groaned throatily as his balls finally raised up and his first orgasm in over two weeks hit hard. He shuddered, spilling one lone, long string of come into his drinking glass. He gasped as his orgasm rolled past without that satisfying relief. Small globs of come dribbled out of his cock as Margery continued teasing him with her toy. He grabbed her hips and thrusted once unloading a last gush of come before sinking back into his seat sweaty and unfulfilled. 

“Is that all you’ve got?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Robb huffed, the vibrations now purely painful. 

“Good boy.” Margery pressed the power button and her vibrator died. Robb sagged in relief. Margery tapped the end of his cage against the glass in her hand to get the few stubborn drops of come clinging to the steel. Then she got up and turned around to her husband, her arm extended, waving the glass in his face. “Drink up.”

Resigned, Robb reaches out with jittery fingers and nabbed the glass. He jerked it out of her hand and glowered as he tipped it back and waited for his sticky jizz to slide down his throat. “Lick it clean,” she ordered.

Groaning in disgust, lips pursed at the thickness of his seed, Robb licked his tongue around the inside of the glass as best he could, then used a finger to get the rest. He ate every drop of his thick, bitter ‘lunch’ for her. 


	8. Uncivilized Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormund comes home to find Jon asleep and waiting for him. How could he resist?

The apartment was quiet. The range hood light was the only one left on for him when Tormund came home from his side gig as a bouncer. Tormund locked the front door and walked into the living room ditching his keys and wallet and phone and every other loose object in his trousers on the kitchen bar counter. He left the light alone and crept into the bedroom, leaving the door wide open. 

There waiting for him in the dim light was his beautiful husband lying naked on top of their sheets. Tormund smirked. His little crow had the oddest sleeping schedule he had ever witnessed, falling asleep in the middle of the night then being awake from early morning to midafternoon when he would sleep again, then he was up until after midnight. A writer’s regimen? Regardless, Tormund quickly threw off his sweaty and alcohol-stained bouncer blacks and joined his husband in bed. 

Dropping gently onto the mattress, Tormund slid across the bed and planted a light kiss to his husband’s temple. He palmed Jon’s smooth, bare flank and rubbed his thumb into his husband’s hip. Jon shuffled in his sleep, babbling under his breath for half a second. Tormund grinned and slowly dipped his fingers between his husband’s ample cheeks. His smile broadened when his fingers touched silicone and stray smears of something slick which he surmised to be lube. His husband was truly a gift. 

Tormund took his time removing the plug from his husband’s hole, withdrawing it bit by bit so as not to wake him. He caressed Jon’s firm ass cheeks tenderly, leering hungrily at the pale expanse beneath his hand. His boy had the best arse in all the North. He couldn’t prove it scientifically, but deep down he knew it to be true. Man or woman, no one could compare to his broody, beautiful crow. Seeing him laid out like a prize just for him was enough to get Tormund outrageously hard. To say nothing of touching all that supple backside. 

Once the plug was out, Tormund reached across his husband and placed it on Jon’s bedside stand so he could see it first thing. That done, he eased his husband’s right leg upwards and rolled onto his side behind him. He dragged the head of his cock through Jon’s cleft, delighted to feel the body-warmed lube cling to the tip of his manhood. Gradually, he scooted closer on his side, pushing his cock into his sleeping husband little by little. Jon groaned softly, snuggling deeper into his pillow, but didn’t otherwise move. After months and months of Tormund working nights on the weekends, he was used to things happening when he wasn’t awake. He enjoyed it. Had been his idea even which surprised Tormund given how vanilla his boy had been at the start as a baby bisexual just out from under his conservative family’s thumb.

“All mine,” Tormund mumbled to himself as he finally pushed himself full in. To the hilt as they say. Jon didn’t so much as make a peep.

Slow and steady, Tormund fucked his unconscious husband, careful to keep the bed from moving too much and of being too loud. A challenge for a bear of a man like him. But that was part of the fun. Getting in and getting out again without being caught was part of their game. And win or lose, Tormund always won because he had Jon fucking Snow in his bed taking his dick at all hours. And that fact alone always made him come hard, panting through his nose as he unloaded into his husband’s perfect bubble butt. 


End file.
